Our paths might cross and, one day, one of us may know about it.

poetry

I don’t have to hear the footsteps
to see the footprints
planted so firmly in the
thick orange sand.

Odds are I will not hear them
anyway, what with
the winds always blowing
and the constant breath
of my lungs moving
trying to keep up
with the beating
of the sun.

The footprints, though,
the give you right away.

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